In case you forgot, I hate Charles Dickens.

It’s nice to see someone much smarter than me — Icelandic author Steinar Bragi — agree. Bragi’s short story, “The Sky Over Thingvellir,” was included in the Best European Fiction 2010 anthology. In his Artist Statement at the end of the book, he wrote:

When it comes to Dickens, I weep with boredom over every single page he’s written; with time I’ve even begun to weep just seeing his books on a shelf. For those who haven’t read him, I would still suggest you do have a look, just so you can make up your own mind -- I’m not a fascist! But don’t spend too much time on it; really, it’s easy to make a quick survey: the first paragraph — of any of his books — is exactly like the rest of the book, and each of his books is exactly like the others. Nothing in Dickens will ever manage to surprise you. And if you want those characters, if you’ve really got a craving for those “Dickensian characters,” just go to a wax museum. It’s faster.

(Once again, I need to give credit to Bookslut for the initial post.)

On a completely different subject, the men of Three Guys One Book have compiled a list of 40 things a writer shouldn’t do. (Of course, these are literary men and not accountants, so they headlined it 50 Things a Writer Shouldn’t Do. These guys are no good with numbers. They call themselves Three Guys even though there’s four of them.)

All of the guys give good advice, even if you’ve heard most of it before. Jonathan Evison makes my favorite suggestion:

Don’t hide behind sarcasm.

Agreed, sarcasm is not clever and has not been clever since the early 1990s. Sarcasm is what happens when people run out of wit.

-Jason Lea, JLea@News-Herald.com

P.S. New Year’s Resolution Update: Had to snowshoe with my night reporter Saturday for work YMCA program. Didn’t kill him, didn’t even threaten to. My managing editor suggested the night reporter and I were becoming friends. Threatened to kill managing editor.

First, to Tricia, I suggest A Christmas Memory by Truman Capote.

It has all of the ingredients that make for an overwrought holiday mess — poor child; sweet, but simple adult; beloved family pet; terrifying strangers who reveal their sentimental side — but Capote doesn’t overplay his hand.

It’s cute. I don’t mean that in a condescending way.

Also, I do like A Christmas Carol. Charles Dickens usually dropped a wealthy benefactor into his plot, so his adorable orphan could have happy ending. I call it the “ducats ex machina.” (Yeah, not clever. Latin puns are not my forte.) For A Christmas Carol, Dickens takes a different tact. He writes from the perspective of the wealthy benefactor instead of the adorable orphan, except we don’t realize he’s the wealthy benefactor until the end.

I was absent most of last week, but not idle. I spent my free minutes following the escalating e-book war. Random House declared retroactive e-rights over all of its books. (That ain’t gonna work.) MobyLives said the Federal Trade Commission should investigate Amazon for its price-slashing tactics. And, for those who don’t spend their free time perusing book blogs, Dr. Syntax gave us a summary of the e-war up to this point, including Covey’s defection from Simon & Schuster to Amazon.

And though it’s not e-book related, a French court convicted Google of copyright violation for its book search program. This is the first international conviction against Google, to my knowledge. I expect it will not be the last.

Merry Christmas. It’s about to get interesting.

-Jason Lea, JLea@News-Herald.com

Now my night will be spent trying to rewrite some great literature to try to win a laptop. More laundry-dishes-cleaning avoidance. Thanks, Jason.

The office has been abuzz of late with talk about favorite Christmas movies. Which has me thinking about Christmas in literature.

What are the most memorable Christmases in literature?

There's the first Christmas, course. Hard to top the Bible.

I'm partial to Louisa May Alcott's "Little Women" with its opening of a Christmas without presents during the Civil War.

Who doesn't enjoy "The Gift of the Magi." O. Henry's classic is packed with powerful messages about true love and what gift-giving should be all about.

I know JLea's not the biggest fan of Charles Dickens, but even he has to admit that "A Christmas Carol" is an enduring work.

And no list is complete without Dr. Seuss' "The Grinch That Stole Christmas."

But then there's a bit of a drop-off.

I've read John Grisham's "Skipping Christmas." It was OK, but I have greater recall of the movie it spawned with Tim Allen and Jamie Lee Curtis.

What am I forgetting? Are authors steering away from the holiday as a theme or is my memory just failing?

Any suggestions? I could use a good read.

- Tricia Ambrose

My co-blogger’s husband proposed to her by quoting the opening passage of “A Tale of Two Cities.” I kid you not.

Normally, I’d dissuade referencing “the worst of times” while proposing, but it must have worked because Tricia accepted. They married and had four children: Lucie Manette, Nicholas Nickleby, Artful Dodger and Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come Ambrose. (I kid you a little.)

The moral, of course, is that women love a reader. So if your tongue is twisted, allow me to play Cyrano. (My advice is unisex. If women want to use my suggestions, I’m sure they will have just as much success as my male pupils. That is, to say, none.)

First, never push too hard while attempting to entice the object of your affection. It is better to bait the trap (preferably with money and expensive liquor) and let them come to you.

As Douglas Carlton Abrams put it: “Restraint is the defining strength of a true caballero, since any boor can thrust but only a skilled swordsman can parry.”

(A caballero is a duck dressed as a South American cowboy, in case you were wondering. In this context, it is a compliment.)

If you find yourself yoked to a talker and are desperate for a moment of silence, I offer two options. One, you can sprinkle some Lord Byron on them:

“Deceit the guilty lips impart
And hush the mandates of the heart
But soul’s interpreters, the eyes
Spurn such restraint and scorn disguise.”

If that doesn’t work, kiss them. People have trouble talking and kissing at the same time.

If your significant other bothers you while you’re watching TV, let him/her know W. Somerset Maugham-style, “Life isn’t long enough for love and art.”

Then, tell them you choose art, at least while “Scrubs” is on.

Perhaps, your woman (or man) might want to talk about your relationship. For this situation, I recommend the big gun, Jane Austen’s “Emma." Tell her (or him), “If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more.”

Finally, if your squeeze asks you one of those deathtrap questions like “Would you mind if my grandma spent the weekend?” or “Do you think I’ve put on weight?” fake a seizure.

What? Not everything can be solved with literature.

--Jason Lea, JLea@News-Herald.com

I dislike Charles Dickens.

No, that’s not quite right. Charles Dickens makes my stomach churn with rancor that’s neither defensible nor logical. I hate Charles Dickens like I hate the Yankees or my mother hates when someone mispronounces a French phrase.

That’s not Dickens’ fault. Like any other irrational hatred, I’m sure it stems from a deep-seated, repressed memory. Maybe a copy of “Hard Times” stole my fruit snacks in kindergarten. Maybe I got tired of my favorite cartoons being preempted in December for variations on “A Christmas Carol.”

Simply put, the man is a legend. He is one of the archangels of English writing along with Chaucer, Hardy, Shakespeare, Austen and the guy who wrote “Upstairs, Downstairs.”

But it makes no difference to me. I don’t like him. I’ve constructed a couple irrational excuses as to why, and now it’s on the World Wide Interweb for everyone to read.

Irrational reason one:

Dickens stuffs his stories with unnecessary, soap opera-plot twists. I understand that serial storytelling — he used to write fiction for newspapers — lends itself to cliffhangers and surprises; but that doesn’t mean I have to enjoy it. (For some reason, it bothers me less when Stan Lee does it. Maybe if Pip dressed like a spider and walloped super-villains with animal names I’d like him more.)

Reason two:

Dickens also must have had a compulsive hatred of concise storytelling. Take, for example, this passage from Great Expectations.

It was a rimy morning and very damp. I had seen the damp lying on the outside of my little window, as if some goblin had been crying there all night, and using the window for a pocket-handkerchief. Now, I saw the damp lying on the bare hedges and spare grass, like a coarser sort of spiders’ webs; hanging itself from twig to twig and blade to blade.

I can say that in four words:

It was wet outside.

Final reason:

Every Dickens story comes with plot contrivances galore. Every poor street urchin must have a rich benefactor. If I were a Charles Dickens character, my name would be Jason Strappinglad. My boss, Laura Thundervox, would cruelly and obscenely abuse me (as opposed to simply abusing me,) but I would be rescued from her machinations by a henceforth unknown millionaire relation.

OK, I’ve exorcised the demon. I feel better, at least until next December when my Thundercats rerun is replaced with A Dora the Explorer Christmas Carol.

--Jason Lea

Not sure if we need ISBNs for Dickens' books (hint: they can be found at any bouqinistes) but because Jason loves both of his readers, here ya go:

Hard Times (Signet Classics): 978-0451530998
A Christmas Carol (The Heirloom Edition): 978-0762412990
Great Expectations (Penguin Classics): 978-0141439563

However, if you are interested in Dickens and have none of him on your bookshelf, I would suggest the collected novels of Charles Dickens, ISBN: 0760775001. You get Great Expectations, A Christmas Carol, Tale of Two Cities, David Copperfield and Oliver Twist.

If that sounds like too much reading, I would suggest watching the Disney version of Oliver with Billy Joel as the Artful Dodger and the Muppets version of A Christmas Carol.